


Lost opportunities

by Snoozydog



Series: Sleeping arrangements [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 17:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16223510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snoozydog/pseuds/Snoozydog
Summary: Lestrade and Sherlock hooked up once in the past.Lestrade is still feeling the repercussions.





	Lost opportunities

They had slept together that one time, in the beginning, before he even knew what he felt for Sherlock Holmes.  
When he saw just the fit body and that face with the piercing gaze that did something to his stomach every time he tried to look into those eyes. A flutter that had eventually turned into a burning sensation reminiscent of acid reflux, gnawing away at his insides rather than producing that roller-coaster feeling of excitement that he had felt in the beginning. Before knowing what it could really feel like.

He still felt shame when he thought about it though.  
Because Sherlock had been more or less under influence and so very accommodating, touchy-feely in a way he hadn’t been able to resist. So he succumbed to his baser feelings and they ended up having sex in Sherlocks old flat in Montague Street. A terrible place really, reeking with old chemical residue, cigarettes and dust in the air. The couch they had done the deed on could barely be considered an actual couch, springs were sticking out all over and the poor stuffing did not offer any comfort whatsoever, but at that precise moment he didn’t mind and Sherlock lived like that all the time so he hardly cared where they were positioning their bodies during the actual act. 

It had been over quickly. Lestrade had no stamina to speak of, too many beers and too little sex in his private life made him come quickly and even if Sherlock was more or less off his head on drugs he still managed to throw Lestrade a look of disappointed disdain before rising on unstable legs to stumble off to the shower. For a moment Lestrade contemplated whether he should follow the younger man, maybe return the favour so to speak, but it felt like that opportunity had somehow past and he remained seated, half naked on the uncomfortable couch until the shower was turned off and Sherlock appeared through the bathroom door again.

“Oh? Are you still here?”

He looked genuinely surprised by that fact and Lestrade started to feel the effects of his mistake right there. It was like it had never happened and from the moment he left that flat, unwashed, with a sticky feeling clinging to his body and embarrassment running through his veins it continued to be that way. It was an event that had never taken place in the world according to Sherlock Holmes. 

In the beginning he felt grateful over that fact. He had cheated on his wife for starters and even if he suspected that she was returning the favour as frequently as she could, it still plagued him a little bit. He was not that kind of husband. 

Secondly, he had taken advantage of someone who was not capable of making rational decisions at that particular moment. A person who was 15 years his junior and in an already questionable professional relationship with him as a consultant on crime scenes, off the record and very frowned upon by the rest of his team. There were so many variables of bad in this scenario that he initially felt lucky Sherlock had decided to ignore that it ever had happened. Maybe he genuinely didn’t remember? He had a habit of deleting irrelevant information after all. Maybe this was such a thing? An irrelevance. 

But the time had progressed and Sherlock got his act under control a bit. They worked together on several occasions and the consulting detective was starting to grow on Lestrade until one day he realised that he had slowly but persistently fallen for the younger man on more than a mere physical level. It was then that the flutter in his stomach really turned acidic and conflicting feelings were raging a war in his mind every time they met. He had it really bad and now the past event plagued him for other reasons than it had from the beginning. He resented the fact that Sherlock didn’t acknowledge it enough to remember it, he felt irritation over an opportunity that was now to be considered lost although it had truly occurred and angry with himself for allowing the other man to get under his skin in this way. 

Because even if his marriage was now on the rocks and Sherlock was working more frequently with him than before and seemed to be off the drugs, Lestrade never did find a way to try anything with him again. For both of their benefit he clamped down his feelings and gave his all during working hours instead, because that was what everyone seemed to prefer. 

He finally did a meek attempt straight after the case with the pink phone and the cab driver turned serial killer but was rebuffed even before being able to advance properly. A slight forwarding position of his head towards Sherlock’s lips but Sherlock just shook his head sternly and left, leaving Lestrade with flushing red-hot cheeks in the darkness. Embarrassing.  
He wondered sometimes if sex was something Sherlock chose not to engage in when finally clean and fully focused on "the work". He was not some blushing virgin, that much was clear from what he remembered from their brief sexual encounter, those lips certainly knew what they were doing even when not engaging in a 1000 words per minute lecture at crime scenes, but other than that memory he never saw or heard of Sherlock participating in anything remotely sexual or flirtatious. 

Not for lack of interest from his surroundings though.  
There was poor unfortunate Molly Hooper of course, who even had Lestrade beat in holding a forlorn infatuation with the consulting detective. The occasional witness sometimes let their interest shine through during questioning but to no avail. And then there was Dr Watson. 

Lestrade wasn’t a 100 % sure what the doctor’s feelings truly were for his flatmate but if the poor bastard really was smitten the sentiment didn’t seem to get reciprocated. Small favours Lestrade though, not sure he could handle seeing the development of a relationship between them actually occur. Time would tell of course, maybe he would get a confidante in the end, a new member to the "We who love emotionally stumped geniuses with razor tounges and selective memories". It could have been funny if it wasn't so tinged with bittersweet.

So when he drove home late at night, after a long day at the office and happened to pass by Montague Street, he glanced up at the window on the second floor, like he always did when passing. And there it was again, that small flutter of roller-coaster excitement, the way it felt in the beginning. Before he knew.


End file.
